So, it's been a long time since I wrote anything for the Supernatural fandom. But a scene in 12x16 had me in need of this…
Also, I just decided that Mick turns out to be one of those Garth characters. You know… 'He grows on you'… So…
Dean watched the British bookworm reach out for the doorknob with his left hand. He had already figured out that the man had something with his shoulder from how he had acted all day, so the constipation face the man was sporting as he reached towards the handle didn't surprise him. What did surprise him on the other hand was that Downtown Abby didn't manage to pull open the door.
"Problem?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
The Brit had the decency to look ashamed as he looked down at his hand. "Yeah, err… Carpal tunnel…"
Dean rolled his eyes, and reached to open the door. "Well, allow me, your lordship…"
Mick Davies offered a slight nod. "…Thanks."
Dean rolled his eyes again as he opened the door for the damsel in distress.
SPNSPNSPN
"…See, here's the thing about 16 year old girls. Especially 16 year old, freshly minted werewolf girls… They don't just die…" Dean prodded, "And you've been acting sketchy all day…"
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about…" Mick Davies tried in a not all that convincing manner.
It didn't surprise Dean when the Englishman grunted in pain as he clamped his right hand over the man's left shoulder.
"What did you do to her?" he demanded. He made his voice exactly as gravelly and intimidating as he wanted, cause he knew that had been enough to scare tougher guys than Mr. Davies.
"I did what needed to be done…"
"And that means?"
"Last night, I injected her with silver nitrate."
Dean pushed off Mick's shoulder, a little more forcefully than strictly necessary. "So you killed her?"
"No, she attacked me! She tore up my shoulder. And…" Mick waved his eyes away from Dean's cold, hard stare. "…I had orders…"
"You had a choice!" Dean almost barked back.
"Did I?"
SPNSPNSPN
A few months later British Man of letter's shoulder had healed up nicely, so Dean was real surprised when the Brit hissed as they tried to move a table.
"What? You hurt?" Dean asked, sort of alarmed. He hadn't seen the Englishman take a beating or get tossed lately, but the more of a hunter the man became… -The less it would surprise Dean if the man decided to suffer in silence.
"Nah… It's just that damn carpal tunnel thing…"
"Wait, you weren't kidding 'bout that?"
"No." Mick answered rubbing his wrist, after they had put the table down. "I have a real problem with it."
Dean couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped him at that moment. He had struggled with bad wrist himself, a few too many sprains, strains and fractures would do that to a man. He knew that he had had three fractures to his right wrist, and two to his left that had healed odd. Leaving him with bones sliding on bones, tearing and wearing itself down. He knew that pain. That was a few levels worse than carpal tunnel. Luckily he had died, and was thereafter 'raised from perdition' by Cas. Good as brand new, no crooked fingers, no clicking knee… No elbow that decided to dislocate itself whenever it felt handy. And after that, Cas had fixed up their worst injuries whenever they got them. For years Dean didn't have to worry about fractures healing bad, leaving him in a constant state of pain.
"Well, boo-hoo princess…" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and it sorta frightened him how much he sounded like Bobby.
"It really hurts!" the British advocated, still rubbing his left wrist.
"Compared to a splinter, yes…" Dean shook his head, "Compared to whatever other injuries this job can deal you with… It's not a drop in the ocean even, but there are these wrist cuffs… They really help."
"They do?"
"Yup…" Dean nodded, "And next time Cas is here, we can ask him if he can do something about that wrist of yours… Might happen…"
Mick Davies nodded, then cast a glance down at his hand and wrist.
"Now, how did you get it in the first place?" Dean prodded, "Did you injure it or something?"
"No… No-no…" Mick looked up with a shy grin, "It's from typing on keyboards for too long…"
"-Wuss…" Dean grinned in a friendly tone.
"Yeah, you're probably correct there, Dean…" Mick frowned, blushing just the slightest. "What's the most painful thing you have suffered through?"
"Probably one of the times I died…" Dean reasoned, "Being ripped to shreds by hellhounds. Good time… But you're probably thinking of something I did survive?"
The dark haired man nodded.
"Hard to decide…" Dean shrugged, "Being shot always hurts, a lot. Have had a lot of nasty dislocations, no fun either…"
"If you had to do a top three? Not necessarily in a strict order, but the three worst?"
"That I survived?"
The man nodded again.
"Okay, let me see…" Dean started. "When I was 17, I got tossed by a wendigo. Damn thing must've thrown me 40-50 feet. I impacted with this huge boulder, and my left knee and thigh just lit up in flames. Worse than I had ever felt it before. I looked down and a bone was peeping out through my jeans somewhere above where my knee should be… And closer to my ankle, my leg took an odd turn right. My thigh and knee hurt so bad I didn't even realize my leg was broken too…"
"That sounds gnarly…"
"Was worse when my dad had me hobble back to the car. He had done something to his elbow, so he couldn't straight up carry me… And Sammy was a little too young to carry me…"
"You didn't call for an ambulance?"
"In the middle of the woods with all kinds of weapons, in the middle of the night? No… There would have been too many questions we couldn't have answered." Dean shrugged.
"I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of the top three…"¨
"Oh, you're gonna hear it alright…" Dean chuckled, "Then we have this time, I think it was back in 2007 or something, it was before Cas… Or at least before we became best buds with the guy, before he started healing us up after every SNAFU situation we got ourselves into…"
Mick nodded.
"I dislocated my shoulder. I had done it a few weeks earlier too, jumping out of a window to save my own ass. You know, the usual reason you jump out of a second floor window…"
"Yeah… Okay…"
"My shoulder was still sore and stiff from that, and I could barely lift my arm up to grab the steering wheel, it was bad… Kinda…" Dean shrugged as he absentmindedly rubbed his left shoulder. "But of course, being young and dumb as I was, I didn't take any time off hunting… Well, except the mandatory two-three days until I managed to dress myself without proper complications…"
The Englishman chuckled a bit, but didn't say anything.
"Long story short, we went on a hunt. I got into a hand to hand with a demon. Stupid idea in the first place. Damn bitch managed to get a hold of my wrist and tore my shoulder and elbow straight out of their natural position. My elbow hurt, but oh my God… My shoulder? Ripped off every single tendon and ligament you find in there…"
Mick frowned and looked like he had tasted something especially ill-tasting. "Sounds bad…"
"Yup, actually went to the doctor. They took a scan of it, that's how I know about how much damage there was. But it had swelled up too much to do something about it straight away, so they put me in this insane sling. It kept my shoulder and elbow steady, alright, but it was huge. And they scheduled surgery for two weeks later."
Mick nodded.
"I was like that for thirteen days. I couldn't sleep, cause no matter how I tried to situate myself on the bed, it hurt. And I mean real hurt, like I wanted to cry all the damn time. Hurt…"
"Sounds horrible…"
"You bet your ass it was horrible, and then Cas popped in. Cause he had something he needed us to know, or do or something. Don't really remember the details there…" Dean shrugged, "Anyway, he looked at me and went, 'Why haven't you begged for this to stop yet?'"
"You hadn't?"
"No… I had been complaining a lot. But I guess I hadn't thought about asking for it to stop…" Dean almost chuckled, "And I was like, 'If you can make this stop, please do…'"
"And he fixed you?"
"Yup, just touched my forehead and did his angel mumbo-jumbo thing, and both my shoulder and elbow were in premium order."
"Nice to have an angel on the team, huh?"
"Yeah, once you get past all the weird antics… Teach them a little 'bout how it is to be human, kinda like you Englishmen… At least you're not so bad…" Dean grinned.
"Well, we sure had our differences a few months back…"
"I'd say we still have them, we just know how to work around them." Dean reasoned?"
Mick nodded, before he looked up at Dean once more. "And the third time?"
"Oh, um…" Dean rubbed his forehead, trying to sort out which story he should tell. "Well, I've probably had more painful and worse injuries… But the first time I got shot… At least I remember that as incredibly, insanely painful."
"Okay, yeah?"
"It's kinda one of those 'first cut is the deepest' things, cause come to think of it… The bullet just nicked me…" Dean almost laughed, "But it was the first time, so I guess I can blame a little bit of it on the pure shock I felt too…"
"That makes sense…"
"I was twelve, soon to be thirteen. I had hunted for some while, easy enough hunts, you know…"
Mick nodded, listening intently.
"I got nicked in the arm, right upper arm." Dean pointed to a spot a few inches below his shoulder. "Funny thing about being shot, is that you NEVER know how bad it is when you feel it happening. You get to decide that afterwards, based on how much you feel or can't feel and how much blood there is… And of course, if the limb works…"
Dean straightened his arm and bent it a few times. "Before I went to hell and all, I could sometimes feel the scar-tissue tugging when I did this. The bullet didn't make all that much damage, it was mostly skin, and some muscle fiber. Think of a badly pulled muscle, I think that was the correct amount of pain. But the shock of being shot for the first time… Guess that made it a hell of a lot worse…"
"So, your dad took you to the doctor then?"
"Hell no…" Dean laughed, "No, he checked my arm there in the field, figured it wasn't all that bad. Wrapped a bandana around it and sowed it up when we made it back to the motel. Hospitals need to report GSWs you know…"
The Englishman looked like he was close to fainting, but nodded.
"So, no hospital then."
"Nope, just whatever dad had 'shoplifted' from the last clinic he had raided." Dean clarified. "But he did have to carry me to the car, cause my legs had turned into Jell-O…"
"Well, that sounds like the least he should do…" Mick stated, "Did you guys have a lot of trouble with the CPS?"
"Yeah, we hated them…"
"Why? They could have helped you and Sam out of that life…"
"Well, guess the family business was in our blood already at that age. And we didn't know any better, but hey… We grew up tough…"
"Yeah, I'd say that!" Mick agreed, "Last week when Sam showed up with a broken wrist, I almost didn't believe him. He looked too calm."
"Yeah, that's the Winchester's for ya…" Dean grinned, "Good thing Cas decided to pop by, and that he has enough mojo to do that instant healing trick of his…"
Mick nodded, "Yeah…"
Okay, so… I haven't watched ep 12x17 yet… In case Mick turns out to be a real major douchebag, but I really want for Dean (and Sam) to get over all the things the Englishmen have done towards them, and warm up to MICK! Because I'd really like it if Mick turned out to be one of those who make the transition from 'I-hate-you' to 'You're-odd,-but-you're-okay…' people in Sam and Dean's lives. And I also want him to turn into somewhat of a hunter, shed that English MoL thing a bit… You know…
*PLEASE DON'T HATE ME…."